| It’s funk to rhythm and punk to rock
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| loud like shot that come from a glock
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| Pick up your mind, run from the spot
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| Revolution jumping in the parking lot
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| Shit is so hot that the sun watch
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| Children by the window with the gun cocked
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| they could get robbed and stop the luck (?)
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| Monkeys dance around for MTV spots
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| I lock into a…
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| rock into a rhythm of street and ancient wisdom
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| Experiment in stereo loud so crank the system
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| For the humble on the path I paint a vision
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| How far will a nigga go just for attention
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| And to be remembered, you forgot the mission
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| Listen!
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| All traces of life
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| in our gats we carry
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| that’s used to dress humanity
|
| (it’s a New Wave, Come on!)
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| All traces of life
|
| in our gats we carry
|
| that’s used to dress humanity
|
| (it’s a New Wave, Dig it!)
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| This life is precious
|
| it’s goddamn? |
| marvelous
|
| before it ever ends
|
| (it’s a New Wave, Come on!)
|
| This life is precious
|
| it’s goddamn? |
| marvelous
|
| before it ever ends
|
| (Come on! Come on!)
|
| I lay terror in this era like Che Guevera
|
| for the people to make or wait it’s better
|
| in a room called real I stay forever
|
| Everyday I lose something I gain forever
|
| Meditate on how I can change the weather
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| My brainstorm for some it’s like (?) umbrella
|
| where bullets and lies both spray together
|
| My mind scream like Al Green «Let's Stay Together»
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| How could a nigga be so scared of change
|
| That’s what you hustle for, for the currency exchange
|
| Ya’ll rich, we could beef curry in the game
|
| out your mouth, ain’t nobody hurrying my name
|
| You seen what happened when the Com go BANG
|
| Wouldn’t have a shot, even at a gun range
|
| Seen hype become fame against the grain become main-stream
|
| It all seems mundane in the scope of thangs
|
| From a land of shit talk, boy stars and pitch forks
|
| didn’t really see white until I went North
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| Getting bent on backyards, wishing in the air for a black god
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| Where people fix cars and clap hard
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| and look to the stars for rap jobs
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| I walk through the black fog with reflectors on my boots
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| smelling war near, I’m connected with the troops
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| that master anger and ain’t afraid to shoot
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| through poured liquor fallen angels they salute (Whew! Whew!)
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| Feel the wind blow
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| A new wave- people with their hair trimmed low
|
| It’s two ways living in this world of techno
|
| This age can’t really save the ghetto
|
| I pause for the rebels who rock heavy metals
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| and tell them that they’re pharoh so let go Come on! |